Those hands were a baby's,
when first I
touched,
they reached for mine,
so tightly they
clutched.
And just as tightly
they clung to
mine,
when that baby took a step
for the very first
time.
Those hands were a toddler's,
when they reached out
for mine;
so often I was elated.
As many a kiss I did bestow,
to God I prayed and
stated,
"Keep those hands so close to mine,
so
safe and so secure."
And those hands were so
excited
as they clapped when they turned four.
Those hands were a child's,
still small clasped in
mine,
when on our daily rides,
we'd laugh and sing
out songs real loud,
sitting side by side.
You're in God's hands
now,
I assured myself,
as those hands waved
by
at the door to their class.
When they came
back home,
the first place they'd roam
, was to
mine
and held tightly fast.
Those hands were a young girl's,
they reached for
mine less often,
and I wondered if something was
the matter.
I told myself it's a part of growing
up,
but my heart did a small pitter-patter.
Those hands were a teenager's,
who resisted
mine.
My own woman's hands
shook a very long
time.
I have cried so many tears
since then and
will cry
so many more.
I tried to hold
tight,
but to no avail,
those hands walked out
the door.
Those hands that day seemed older,
almost like the
woman
you were about to become,
Your face,
you've turned away from me,
my heart broke
and
I felt numb.
I wish I could have looked into your eyes
I was
afraid of what I'd see.
But those hands you
know,
they gave you away,
the words they spoke
were free.
They said,
"I don't need you,
then again maybe
I do,
I'm very confused you see."
I saw them
trembling
as you pulled away,
those hands,
they needed me.
They longed to be held
securely
in mine,
gently and never let go.
But the
confused woman- to- be,
just shook her head,
and stuck by her little show.
Oh, I long for the day,
just to caress those
hands
and whisper it will be all right.
But
this woman- to-be,
she took those hands,
and
again was gone into the night
She'll come back some day
with a wave of those
hands.
I know it as
I know my own heart
Because I'm praying to God,
every step of the
way,
for us to have a brand new start.
There will come a time,
when those hands will look
fine,
with a brand new band of gold.
Then
she'll wave at me,
with a look of glee and with her
husband
I pray will grow old.
EPILOGUE
Oh, those hands were a baby's,
clinging just like
its mother's.
They were so soft,
so tiny, so
fine.
And as those woman's hands
reached for the
baby's,
her one reached out for mine.
İİİ
Liza Ambrico Romano
This is dedicated to my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ
who has guided me through the years and to my loving
daughter Stephanie.
Please do not copy this poem without the signed
permission of the author.
Thank you.
